Labyrinth
by SerenLyall
Summary: Through the mists a figure slowly emerges. It is a woman, tall, raven haired, with a piercing blue gaze. Suddenly, four figures appear around her. The fog evaporates, and they are wreathed in flame, ice, shadow, and lightning. And I know, that is the end
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Sanctuary, nor any ideas affiliated with Sanctuary herein are property of myself. They belong to Sanctuary. Any historical figures or events are also not in any way tied to my own, and belong in history, right where they are. Any parallels between any event or character in this story and in real life is accidental. No money was made from the writing of this story. All original characters belong to me.

**Rating:** Teen. Rated Teen for: graphic violence, cruelty/abuse/sadism, occurrences that could be conceived as torture, graphic gore, language.

**Category:** Angst/Horror

**Summary:** At midnight, the clock starts to tick. At midnight, the feeling wanes. At midnight, the games begin. Is there hope? Or is all lost in darkness?

**Time Frame:** mid-Season 2. Pre-Sleepers, post-Pavor Nocturnus.

**A/N:** A few quick notes concerning this tale:

Ways to differentiate between points of view-  
><em>italics <em>(just regular italics) - memories/flashbacks  
>"<em>italics<em>" (italics with quotation marks around them) - thoughts  
>_italics_/ (italics with backwards slashes at the beginning and end of the passage) - seeing through someone else's eyes

This tale is told in multiple Parts (aka chapters). Thus far, I have through Part 2 written. The rest shall be written shortly, and updated approximately one week in between each.

**Dedication: **This tale is dedicated as a gift to Yuu-chi, a good friend of mine. A very merry Christmas to you, and a Happy New Years too!

-Labyrinth-

-Part 1: Into Darkness-

12:00am; April 14th

The door opened one final time, a shaft of darkness piercing the brightly illuminated room. A shadowed figure was bowed into the richly furnished room. The hooded man bowed his head to the other twelve occupants in the room, and each of them returned the gesture.

The newcomer crossed the thickly carpeted floor to sink into an overstuffed armchair. His hand rested atop the armrest, the fingers beginning to twitch anxiously, as if they were accustomed to drumming, but their owner was keeping them carefully in check.

The hooded head swiveled around the room, taking in the tapestries that hung along the wood and stone walls, and admiring the blazing hearth set into the back wall. Above the mantle hung an impressive array of ancient weapons, from swords to battle axes, and all of the way back to an intricately carved spear. Vases and sculptures of fantastic beasts stood on dainty tables and bookcases, filling the room with the flickering of firelight off of porcelain and pewter.

Next, the man's gaze flickered over his companions. A few of them had their faces covered, much like he himself did, although he could ascertain certain details about each of them, simply by the way they dressed or the way they held themselves.

There was an older man sitting in the ornate wooden chair in the corner, the blood red cushion showing stark against the black of his pants and coat. His face was sharp and his eyes cold as he stared at the fire flickering in the grate. Beside him, and sitting daintily on the sofa beside a rather corpulent, balding man, sat a slim, haughty woman, the gems embedded in her eye glasses frames refracting light every time she shifted her head even a little. On the far side of the man sat a youth that, too, wore a hood concealing his features. He could have been barely out of adolescence, his slightly scrawny looking chest and shoulders telling a tale of having another few years to grow and expand. Sandy blond hair peered out from under the cusp of the hood, dusting his forehead and cheeks with feathery spikes. He was perched on the edge of the couch precariously, as if he would much rather be far away from the two beside him than he currently was. Sitting to his left was another man, his mouth twisted into a sneer. His eyes were black as coal, and his dusky black hair slicked back to reveal a pasty forehead. A jacket, tie, and slacks covered him from head to toe, a handkerchief of maroon silk just barely visible as it peeked above the lip of his breast pocket. Sharing a loveseat across from the couch were two nearly identical teens, the only difference the fact that one was a boy, and one a girl. Even their hair was cut in the same lopsided, nonchalant style. Their eyes were what drew the watcher's gaze – they were a deep violet, the depths of the iris flecked with silver. They were veiled, their faces schooled into masks of indifference. Beyond the twins, sitting close to the crackling hearth, sat an older woman. Her face was wrinkled and her hands shook slightly as they folded and refolded in her silk clad lap. Behind her stood a slightly younger man with vibrant orange hair, one hand placed on the elder woman's shoulder. Whether he was protecting her, or comforting her was unclear. Even as he watched, the ginger moved around the armchair and sank onto a footstool. Every few seconds, he would shoot an accusatory glance over one shoulder, his eyes boring into the skinny, rat-like man sitting with his legs crossed on a second wooden chair. Directly beside the watcher, who seemed to be the final member to the company, sat a woman in her late thirties, a leather jacket zipped up to her chin, cargo pants that hung low over combat boots, and a fedora shading her face. Her eyes gleamed out from the shadows obscuring her features, their piercing blue gaze unsettling in its intensity.

The only man in the room that the newcomer had not closely inspected suddenly turned away from his vigil by the fireplace. He was stocky and tall, his cheekbones high and his storm gray eyes holding a twinkling warmth in them that seemed to be absent from the remainder of the room. He was dressed all in black, from the boots adorning his feet, to the hooded jerkin that was cinched around his waist with a belt.

He smiled as his gaze swept around the room, carefully counting the twelve other members seated in a circle. Somehow, the warmth that seemed to shine in his eyes didn't make it to his mouth. His smile was cold and merciless.

"Now that we're all here, shall we begin?" the man asked, the breaking of the silence feeling like the shattering of a stained glass window. Nods of assent circulated around the circle, although the more perceptive of the group realized that the man had not been waiting for their approval.

Almost before the words had left his mouth, the oak door leading to the darkened, outside hall opened one final time. Thirteen heads turned to watch the creature enter the room.

It was tall and lanky, and seemed to almost shimmer, as if the light of the fire was somehow glancing off of his very skin. He had no hair to be seen, and his skin was a sickly tan. Perhaps the most unsettling thing about the creature, however, was that he had no eyelids, his irises twice as large as any humans. The pupils were slit vertical like a vipers, and blood red streaks trailed out into what little white of the eye could be seen.

Thirteen separate coils detached themselves from the creature's arms and legs, dropping to the ground with a soft _plop_. With the soft _hiss_ of scales on fibers, the things moved closer to the thirteen members of the circle. Many of those seated shifted nervously, their eyes darting back and forth as they began to wonder just what they had gotten themselves into.

The man standing by the fireplace took two steps forward, before dropping regally into a carved, ebony armchair. Truth be told, it looked more like a throne than a true chair, with ornate patterns carved into the wood, and the cushions gleaming with rich dyes and gold and silver embroidery.

The serpentine creatures stopped by the feet of their appointed individual, coiling themselves in readiness. The man looked down at his, memorizing every detail about the strange creature. It appeared to have bark-like scales running the full length of its serpentine body, its tail tapering to a point. Its head was triangular in shape, with two tiny, ivory needles poking above the top lip. It shone a dull brown fading into the cream of the carpet.

A hiss sliced through the air, and seconds later, the door closed with a snap, the bringer of the serpents disappearing into the hallway. On cue, each of the creatures lying on the floor began to slither up the leg of their chosen individual, wrapping themselves around the shin. When their head was halfway up, they jabbed the point of their tail into the carpet below, sinking it deep out of sight.

The man sitting in the throne smiled.

"Let the games begin," he ordered.

As one, the serpents struck, burying their heads into the flesh of their victims, and darkness descended into the minds of the thirteen seated members.

A flash of searing gray light. A tingling sensation. And then, thirteen minds joined together. They were one. No; more than that. They were _inside_ one.

They were inside _her._

-sSs-

03:14am; April 14th

Will Zimmerman lay in his large four poster bed, one arm thrown carelessly across his eyes. Not that he needed the appendage to block out sunlight streaming through the mullioned windows on the far wall, for the sun had not yet even risen. In fact, it wouldn't for a good many hours yet. Instead, he was attempting to block out the distractions buzzing around him. It wasn't working, however, especially considering the fact that the distractions were _internal_ rather than _external_.

He truthfully couldn't explain what was bothering him. If anything, it seemed to simply be a small, yet annoyingly persistent, nagging doubt in the back of his mind. Or perhaps it was a shadowed fear lodged somewhere in his chest. Whichever one it was, it made absolutely no logical sense, and for a man who was ruled by logic and what was seen, a niggling feeling wasn't much to put faith in.

Finally, Will gave up attempting to fall back asleep. Sleep simply did not want to come. He swung his legs out of bed, ruffling his hands through his hair as he stood, swaying as he stretched. Staggering slightly in his bleary state, he made his way to the door separating him and his bathroom, snagging a pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt on his way.

Fifteen minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom, hair still dripping, and looking only slightly more awake. He yawned widely, grumbling slightly to himself as his eye caught the gleaming numbers of the alarm clock on his nightstand: 3:29 – a most unreasonable hour to be awake.

Not feeling hungry in the least, only more than a little sleep-deprived, Will meandered his way through the hallways of the Sanctuary, finally finding himself in front of the door to his office. After contemplating for a moment, he pushed his way in, clicking the lamp on his desk on as he half fell into the chair.

Folders and forms were piled on the top of the desk, the pristine white of the paper gleaming at him mockingly. What with Magnus being away for the week, the paperwork had fallen onto Will to complete, and had quickly piled up. Seeing nothing else to do, Will set to work on sifting through the mountain of paperwork.

He worked steadily for the next few hours, somehow managing to wade his way through one of eight stacks littering his office. The monotonous work wasn't helping to distract him much, however. The feeling that had plagued his sleep and brought him to wakefulness continued to dog his thoughts, pulling at him incessantly.

By 5:45, Will had given up working through the papers scattered on his desk. He dropped the pen he had been holding, and allowed his head to fall onto his arms which were crossed on top of the many folders piled on his desktop.

"What's going on?" he asked himself aloud, hoping that speaking his thoughts might, somehow, make everything more clear. It didn't.

With an exasperated huff, Will pushed his chair away from his desk, leaning his neck back over the headrest. He closed his eyes, hoping against hope that sleep would claim him.

He sat bolt upright, his eyes flying open. Everything suddenly became clear to him. Well, as clear as anything _can_ be at 6 in the morning. He knew the feeling that was clenching at his gut and tearing at his mind. He knew it quite well, even if he hadn't felt it for a surprising length of time. He could only wonder why he hadn't recognized it before.

It was fear. Deep, unshakeable fear. The kind you feel when you're looking at Death's bloodstained wings, and can feel his gaze boring into your heart and soul.

And he had no rhyme or reason to be afraid.

He was sitting within the walls of the Sanctuary (not that that was the safest place to be), in his office, at 6 in the morning. Everyone else was asleep (most likely), and all of the dangerous Abnormals were safely locked in the Shoe. The alarm systems would be clamoring if security had been breached. The Cabal were no longer a threat, and the remaining small factions were wisely retreating into hiding from Druitt and Nikola's fierce onslaught. There was _nothing_ to be afraid of.

And yet Will was afraid.

A knock on the door startled Will out of his thoughts, nearly causing him to topple forward out of his chair. He caught himself on the corner of the desk, and called out for whoever it was to enter.

Henry poked his head through the door, his hair wildly tangled and his eyelids more than half closed. He smothered a yawn as he opened the door farther.

"Well you're up early," he commented, coming in to sit in a chair situated on the near side of Will's desk.

"So're you," Will replied, running one hand over his face in an attempt to clear his thoughts.

"I left some tests on the security system running last night so they'd be done before feeding time," Henry said by way of an explanation. "They finished sometime this morning, and I didn't want Kate or the Big Guy to get mad if they had to wait to finish their chores." Will nodded absently, still attempting to ground himself in his current surroundings.

Henry looked at his friend more closely, noting the slightly haggard look on Will's face. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, sounding ever so slightly more awake in his worry.

"What? Oh, yeah," Will replied automatically. "I just didn't sleep well is all. I figured, what with Magnus being gone and all, I should spend some of the time I wasn't sleeping trying to get through this paperwork. I still don't understand how she manages to get it all done, plus meetings with us, plus fieldwork, plus all of those extra projects she's constantly working on."

"She's an enigma. Even to me, and I've been living with her way longer than you have," Henry retorted with a small chuckle.

He stood up, rubbing his hands together. "Well, I need coffee. Care to join me?" he asked. Will spared only one glance at the papers dashed across his desk before he smiled and stood, turning out the lamp as he did so.

"Sure," he replied. "Coffee sounds wonderful."

The day dragged by painfully slowly to Will. Throughout the staff meeting, he kept trailing off in the middle of his sentences, distracted by the odd, prickling feeling at the base of his brain that was his constant companion. Kate finally asked if he was sick, and Biggie threatened to drag him down to the infirmary until Will managed to convince them he was merely suffering from the side effects of insomnia. Whenever he attempted to work on the paperwork continuing to build in his office (stacks of folders had to be moved to the bookcase and one of the spare chairs so that his desk wouldn't be so overrun that he didn't have any place to work), he kept getting distracted and accidentally spelling his name wrong. The nagging fear in his mind just _wouldn't_ let him concentrate.

He threw the pen down in pent up anger, allowing a small growl of frustration to escape between his lips. The chair toppled behind him as he stood up viciously, not caring as it hit the ground with enough force to splinter the wood.

He moved to stand in front of the window, running his fingers through his short, spikey hair repeatedly. He gazed out at the peerless blue sky, as if begging the cloudless heavens to give him an answer. Any answer would be helpful. The heavens seemed to be disinclined to oblige.

After righting his chair, Will slunk out of his office, a deep, bone piercing melancholy and helplessness sinking over him. With a bitter smile, he realized he was feeling more than a little woebegone and pathetic. He slowly made his way down to the kitchen, thinking that maybe he would get something to eat.

Kate was already sitting on the counter, a spoon in one hand and a carton of ice cream in the other.

"Hey," she greeted will cheerfully, smiling cheekily at him. "Feeling any better?" The look Will shot her way was all the answer she needed. As Will pulled the fridge door open, Kate tried again. "So, Squid says he has some information that might be of use to us."

"Hm," was all Will answered in reply.

"We just got his message a few hours ago. He told us to meet him at the old bridge in two days." At least that time she gleaned a word for her troubles.

"Really?" Will queried, although the tone of his voice urged her to go on.

"Yup. So, who're you gonna have go meet him?"

"You or me, probably," Will answered, turning away from the fridge with a slice of pizza in his hands.

As he took a bite out of the pizza slice, a shadow fell across his face. Surprised, he looked out the window.

An enormous cloud bank was rolling across the sky, blocking out the sun's life giving rays of warmth. The clouds were thick and dark, each one a roiling mass of threatening gray.

Just then, Will's adrenaline spiked. His heart sped up, his breathing coming in shallow, ragged gasps. Energy flowed through him, filling him. Just as quickly as it had come, the feeling subsided, leaving him sagging against the counter. He only just managed to stay upright, grasping the corner in a death grip.

"Will?" Kate's surprised yelp permeated the numb shock that filled his mind. He lifted his head, shaking it to clear his thoughts. Kate slid off of the counter, grabbing his shoulders and helping him to a nearby chair. He sank into it gratefully, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

"Will, are you okay?" Kate asked, worry rife in her tone.

"Yeah," Will answered. Then he looked up at her, a small smiling hovering around his lips. "Yeah, actually I am. That's weird…" he trailed off. Unexplainably, strangely, and most welcomingly, the blanket of fear that had been smothering him all day was gone – vanished, as if it had never existed, the only reminder a faint memory fading into Will's memories.

"Will, Kate!" Henry burst into the kitchen, allowing the kitchen door to slam into the wall with a crunch. He slid up short at the sight of Kate bent over Will worriedly, while Will was grinning like a fool. "Uh, is everything okay?" Henry asked, his voice calming and instead being replaced with worry.

"Yeah, everything's fine," Will replied, standing up. Kate straightened as well, shadowing him as he stepped toward his dropped slice of pizza as if she were afraid he would nearly fall over again. He took a large bite with renewed vigor.

Henry looked back and forth between Kate and Will, but then decided to drop the matter.

"So," he said, his face once again beginning to light up. "What do you think of the storm coming in?" he asked.

"I had thought it was supposed to be clear and bright all day," Kate replied, sparing another glance out of the kitchen windows and up into the now completely covered sky.

"It came up so fast," Henry mused, also glancing out of the window. "I was outside taking a look at some of the wiring at the gate, when all of a sudden the sun was just…blotted out. I hadn't even seen a cloud in the sky up until then. It was really kinda creepy."

"Yeah, well today's just been a weird day overall," Will said, finishing the final bite of pizza crust and dusting his hands off on his jeans. Henry and Kate looked at him, silently urging him to go on. "I've just had a weird feeling all morning," Will supplied with a wry twist of his mouth. "It's nothing to get excited over."

"Well, anyway, I came in to see if one of you would help me move the equipment inside before the storm breaks," Henry said after a moment of contemplative silence. Some of it is rather sensitive to water, and it would be really bad if it exploded."

"Sure, I'll help," Kate offered, turning to put the ice cream back in the freezer. "You gonna be okay Will?" she asked as she was about to exit the kitchen.

"Wha? Oh, yeah, I'll be fine. Really," he reassured her, smiling slightly. Kate returned the smile, and turned to follow Henry out of the house.

Will rolled his shoulders rather uncomfortably, feeling almost as if he was floundering in the sudden absence of fear. For a long moment, he watched the clouds roil and build high above the Sanctuary. As he watched, he felt an insatiable urge to be up there with them, to stand in the free air.

His mind made up, he quickly ascended the stairs to the small door set at the end of the farthest hallway, and unbolted the ancient oak door. It protested only slightly as Will shoved his shoulder against it, pushing it open. His footsteps echoed around the stone stairwell. One more door stood between him and the outside.

As Will emerged onto the roof, the first thing he noticed – apart from the roiling masses of gray clouds seething above his head – was the wind. It whipped around the lip of stone that surrounded the roof, a keening howl careening through the turbulent air. Fingers plucked at his clothes and ruffled through his hair, battering his skin with tickling force. Goose bumps rippled along Will's bare arms and neck, and he wrapped his arms around his torso, hugging his shirt tight to his body.

He stepped out into the wind and neared the edge of the roof. He wouldn't dare to step up onto the short wall separating him from a twenty foot fall today, especially with the wind, but he did want to be able to see the grounds beneath.

Will watched as Kate and Henry quickly pulled various pieces of equipment into a storage shed and spread tarps over the closed doors and windows. It looked like they were in for a hell of a storm.

As the two disappeared inside, Will lifted his face to the sky, allowing the wind to rush around him. He opened his senses, allowing them to run with the racing air and cavort with the spinning clouds. He felt alive and so very free. He was unburdened, weightless.

As all thought fled his mind, embracing the oncoming storm, a small shadow began to grow in his mind. It grew, until it had creeping tendrils all throughout the man's mind. Slowly, unconsciously, Will began to sink into the darkness, allowing it to caress his mind.

_Darkness surrounded him, clutching at him. His heart raced, fighting to burst out of his chest. His breathing was sharp and ragged, frenzied. He closed his eyes, fighting to regain his calm. Slowly, ever so slowly, the fear began to recede. But only a little. When he opened his eyes, it was still just as dark as before. The task was just as impossible, the hope just as faint._

_He began to move forward, his arms outstretched slightly so as not to run into anything in the darkened cavern. His feet shuffled along the floor as he took tiny steps, small stones and pebbles clattering away from his boots as they dragged along the ground. _

_Without warning, his right hand smashed into something hard. Something hard and extremely sharp. Light flared around him, assailing his retinas as it lanced through the darkness. His hand burned and stung all at once, and he could feel warmth trickling down the fingertips from a deep gash on the back of his hand._

_It took a second to realize he had screamed._

_It took a further second to realize that it was not him who had screamed. It was a woman. _

_The scream was eerily familiar._

Will gasped and stumbled forward, falling halfway over the wall surrounding the roof. His knees hit the stones, and he sank to the rooftop as if every bone in his body had suddenly been liquefied.

What had he just seen? Was it a figment of his imagination? Was it a fear he harbored?

No. It was a memory. Of that much he was certain. A memory that was most certainly not his.

For a second, he had been sure he had known whose memory it was. But the moment of clairvoyance was gone. Even as he grasped at what faint straws he could, the memory faded around him, dissolving into the wind. The darkness from which the memory had come, too, faded away, and, even though he sat and strained to find it, he could not.

Even as the final misted image faded away, the shadow from before once again settled around Will. Once again, Will was afraid. Although this time, he wasn't sure he didn't have a reason.

-sSs-


	2. Chapter 2

**For disclaimers, see chapter 1**

**A/N:** Thank you so very much to the reviews on the first chapter. All will be forwarded to Yuu-chi, whose story this really is (even if I'm writing it). If all of the italics bothers you, please let me know so I can change the formatting if need be. Just so you all know, all other works have been put on hold until this is complete, so it should be fully written with the week (I pray). Thank you again to all the readers.

A few quick notes concerning this tale:

Ways to differentiate between points of view-  
><em>italics <em>(just regular italics) - memories/flashbacks  
>"<em>italics<em>" (italics with quotation marks around them) - thoughts  
>_italics_/ (italics with backwards slashes at the beginning and end of the passage) - seeing through someone else's eyes

This tale is told in multiple Parts (aka chapters). Part 3 will be up next Sunday or Monday.

**Dedication: **This tale is dedicated as a gift to Yuu-chi, a good friend of mine. A very merry Christmas to you, and a Happy New Years too!

-Part 2: Falls a Light-

4:32pm; April 14th

In the windowless room, thirteen beings sat, still as death, each rigid and erect in their seat. The only sound that pierced the heavy air was the snapping and popping of the fire. A log snapped in half, sending a flurry of sparks cavorting up the chimney, and releasing a loud pop. Not a single eyelid twitched. Not a single finger drummed. All was silent. All was still.

For none were truly in the room.

_/The passageways, unlike the caverns, were not completely dark. A flickering gray light permeated the twisting, turning tunnels, the light being just enough to see by. Torches burned fitfully in sconces set in uneven intervals along the roughly hewn walls, occasionally hissing and sizzling if a droplet of water fell directly into the flame._

_Her lungs burned. Her body ached. Her hands stung. Her leg throbbed with increasing agony. She didn't know how much longer she could push herself at this relentless pace. She began to slow down, drawing in deep, biting lungful's of air. She staggered, slipping in the loose gravel that lined the floor of the passage, and nearly cracked her head on the jutting rocks of the tunnel wall. She barely caught herself, gouging her already raw hands on the pitted stone. She bit back a cry, instead simply leaning her forehead against her cold, stinging hands._

_The sound of something metallic scratching against stone reverberated through the walls and through the ground. The constant fear that had been running through her veins sparkled back into life. But barely. Even the painful memories of what had happened last time she had turned to fight the thing weren't enough to immediately get her running again. _

_Her mouth locked into a feral snarl, and she pushed herself away from the wall, and once again began her trudging run. Within seconds, her lungs were aching, and the furious stitch in her side had returned. She refused to allow her mind to dwell on the searing agony that had once again risen up just above her knee._

_Ten steps. Twenty steps. Forty. A hundred. And still, somehow, she managed to continue. She turned a corner, gasping, and staggering. She wasn't ready for the abrupt incline that met her shuffling feet. Her injured leg gave out, and with a sharp cry, she tumbled down the slope, rocks and tiny pieces of glass biting into her skin as she tried to slow her descent._

_Finally, she came to a rolling stop at the foot of the slope. For a second, she could merely lay in a heap, stunned, with all of the breath knocked out of her. When she managed to raise her head, she looked around at her surroundings. They didn't look particularly promising._

_It was simply a large, oval cavern made out of a light gray, almost dusty white stone, the torchlight lighting the entire space with a pearlescent glow. Sand covered the floor, as it did with most of the larger caverns, and there were no other tunnels leading out of the bowl._

_The clicking of the creature hunting her echoed down the tunnel, reaching her ears. This time, she didn't even get up. Perhaps, if she played dead, the thing would leave. Or at least let its guard down long enough for her to get away._

_A few seconds later, a dark green shadow loped down the incline, skidding to a halt as its paws touched the sand. It looked rather wolfish, mixed with a bat of some sort. Its olive green skin had a webbed appearance, and was stretched tightly over copper colored bones, and the same copper shone sinisterly in the spikes that ridged the creature's spine, neck, and sides. Claws far too big for its body slid out of their sheaths as the Abnormal caught sight of its prey._

_It began to slink forward, its belly low to the ground, a predatory grin pulling its gums back._

_A hair raising screech spliced the air, dicing into neat shreds. Sand swirled and eddied as a sudden buffet of stale air slammed into the ground. A second later, the ground shook as something very large, and very heavy, landed on the sand. A second screech followed the first, just as a shadow obliterated the torchlight._

_The wolf-bat that had been hunting her for the last…who knows how many hours…stopped its stalk toward the injured woman. It raised its gaze upward, to fix upon the new creature that had dared to threaten what it had claimed as its own. The new creature growled, and, to the woman's surprise and utter shock, instead of a returning growl, she heard a low whimper. Then the scuffling of something as it backed up rapidly. She lifted her head just in time to see the bat-wolf turn tail and run, disappearing up the tunnel._

_Faced with a new foe, she found a strength she hadn't known she possessed. She pushed herself upright, dragging her bruised body into a standing position. Slowly, achingly slowly, she turned to face the new beast._

_Vaguely, it reminded her of a dragon. It had a triangular head, and a long, serpentine body, with two enormous wings sprouting from the withers. Pale yellow scales adorned the creature's body, forming what she knew would be an impenetrable armor. In that instant, she wondered why she had even bothered to stand up. But she also knew that it wasn't in her to go down without a fight._

_The Abnormal lunged, its teeth snapping at her, hoping for a quick kill. She threw herself sideways, landing on her shoulder and flipping onto her back before she came to a standstill. A hiss was her only warning as the head jabbed down at her again, the teeth snicking as they closed on empty air as she gathered her feet under her and leapt forward. She came down awkwardly on her injured leg, and it buckled._

_She half fell, half slid to the ground, turning as she did so she could watch the dragon as it turned to face her. One great, luminescent eye stared down at her unblinkingly, calculatingly. A tongue hissed from between serrated teeth. It reared. And then it struck._

_She raised her arm and flung the gravel into the face of the oncoming beast. Gravel and tiny particles of sand dug into the sensitive tissue of the dragon's eyes, causing it to draw its head backward in surprise. It yelped in pain, then slowly retreated from the kneeling figure in the sand._

_She couldn't believe it. Was it leaving? No, of course not. She couldn't have been that lucky._

_The dragon roared, and it appeared as if clouds gathered around the flared wings. Electricity burned the air, the scorching scent rolling throughout the entire cavern like a wave. What could only be thunder rippled through the narrow space, shaking dust and small stones from the ceiling. _

_A split second later, the lightning came. A jagged bolt of searing light lanced toward the still figure in the sand. The lightning struck the ground just to her left, sending molten pieces of sand spraying every which way. The skin on her cheek was scalded off as a globule of burning stone struck her face, dripping off of her cheekbone and down to join its brethren._

_She staggered to her feet. She only had one hope – she had to get to the passageway and out of the cavern. The Abnormal was far too large to squeeze into the tunnel. She would much prefer to face the biting, crushing jaws of the wolf-bat than this nightmare._

_Lightning crackled above her head, and she dropped to her right and rolled, just barely missing the bolt of pure power that struck the sands exactly where she had been a second previous. She managed to pull herself to her feet one last time. _

_Something heavy and impossibly strong slammed into her chest, sending her flying. She crashed into the wall, and felt three of her ribs snap with the impact. She fell to the ground, limp and unable to move. The same crushing force lifted her off of the floor and pressed her into the wall._

_She couldn't breathe. Blackness was encroaching in on her. She couldn't move. _

_She was paralyzed, and unable to fight her impending doom. She could no longer hold her own life and fate in her hands. She could do nothing, but watch death as it lowered its head to sneer at her._

_And it terrified her./_

-sSs-

4:56pm; April 14th

Thirteen people felt her die. At least, it felt like they felt her die. Each of them watched, through her own eyes, as the beast's head lowered until it was even with the tail that pinned her to the wall, its teeth dripping with hissing saliva.

A pressure on her chest so crushing it felt as if her bones would shatter. Seconds later, a sharp, stabbing pain assaulted her mind, running through her body like liquid fire.

A split second later, they found themselves opening their eyes to the crackling warmth of the windowless room, a tingling, prickling sensation running through their entire bodies.

"What just happened?" the old woman sitting in the armchair demanded, her voice thin and reedy, yet much stronger than her looks led one to believe.

The man sitting in the throne straightened regally, a look of disdain creeping over his face.

"Each of the participants were rendered unconscious using a sonic stunner," he answered, his eyes never meeting those of the woman he was answering. "They will awaken in a short while, ready to begin again. In the meantime, I suggest we all partake in some refreshment." At these words, the door to the room opened, admitting three plainly garbed servants bearing large trays covered in steaming dishes.

The trays were set on a table that seemed to somehow appear out of thin air in the center of the circle, each of the silver lids carefully removed from the tops of the delicacies. A stack of plates and cutlery were placed alongside each of the choice dishes, and with that, the serving men retreated out of the door, bowing as the oak cut of the shadows of the hallway.

Almost immediately, the members of the circle descended on the food, feeling ravenous after their little adventure. Some were more exuberant than the rest. The plump man descended on the food like a vulture spreading its wings over a new kill, his face positively gleaming with anticipation. The woman with bejeweled glasses also darted forward, filling her plate with salad and rolls, her nose wrinkled slightly as she brushed against the ginger haired man, who was filling two plates. The others were hanging back, not quite sure how exactly to proceed, a few of them looking more than mildly unsettled by the scene they had just witnessed.

Those, the hooded late comer noted, would be the ones he would have to watch the closest. They were the ones that reveled in the pain they knew the woman was experiencing. They were the ones that hoped that the show would go on for days at a time before the participants were either killed, or dropped from exhaustion, and were no longer able to rise. Often, of course, it was both.

The man's fingers began to drum on top of the armrest. He gazed at the food, although he felt no inclination to join the feast. He was quite content to sit and think. And he had much to think about.

It had been much harder than he had expected to work his way into her mind. And by that he did not, of course, mean the way the _others_ were in her mind – able to see what she saw, smell what she smelled, and even, to a certain extent, feel what she felt. Oh no, what he meant was much deeper. He had truly gone _into_ her mind.

He had no way of knowing if she had been able to sense his presence and had erected the blasted barriers in his honor, or if they were always there, locking her mind like a prison. Whichever truth it was, however, it _was_ the truth. Her mind was surrounded by a steel wall, that had been almost impossible to break through.

Only by using all of his willpower had he been able to worm his way through that woman's walls, finally gaining entrance to her thoughts. Her memories had been an entirely new problem all together. If he had thought that simply getting to her thoughts was like trying to find a way over the Berlin Wall, her memories were guarded by the Great Wall of China. Nigh impossible to do.

He had almost despaired, and retreated to leave her in peace, when luck had finally found him at last. Or fate had decided to smile kindly on her – whichever way one would prefer to look at it.

A single face, a simple memory. A man, smiling at her as she sat at her desk, his voice cajoling her as he tried to find a clean place on her desk to put down the sandwich he had made.

It had been all he'd needed.

Quickly, so as not to lose the memory, he had connected. That had been the easy part – using memories to find a person's mind had always been his specialty. Then had begun a new trial challenging in a very different way.

He had to retain control. If too much was allowed through the connection, the Others would sense it. The serpents that allowed them access to her mind weren't completely brain dead tools. They had enough sense to know if another mind linked that wasn't supposed to.

All had gone well until the very last few minutes – when the _dragon_ had come. That little scenario was _not_ one that he had been anticipating or ready for. He had been more than a little surprised, shock numbing his thoughts for a second. A second was all that was needed.

He had lost control. No longer able to regulate what was passed over the link, fear and adrenaline consumed him, rushing around him, spreading through him. It wasn't long until the other mind linked with his felt it too. The others had stirred, sensing something not quite right.

He had done everything in his power to sever the connection, or to tamp down on the overwhelming emotions. He had come so close to even going as far as to attempt to completely repress all thought and brain functions on her part. But that would have been disastrous, had he succeeded. And now, as he reflected, he wasn't even entirely sure that he could have, even if he had bent all his thought and will to it.

Ironically, it was the Others that saved them from discovery. Deeming the woman to have had enough for her first round, they had knocked her and her foe unconscious, and brought all thirteen individuals back to their own minds. Miraculously, it was enough to sever the link between them.

The man ran the forefinger on his left hand along his bottom lip, thinking hard. He could _not_, under _any_ circumstances, allow what had just happened to occur again. It would be disastrous. In fact, it would be deadly. There had to be another way…

Realization dawned on him, and a small smile flitted around the man's mouth as his hand fell away from his face and into his lap. It was worth a shot…

He closed his eyes briefly, searching for the picture of the man. It came to him easily enough, although the edges were blurred and the colors slightly skewed like any memory taken from another. He would never, under normal circumstances, be able to connect with a mind he had never met before, unless he was already linked to someone very close, and with very strong feelings associated with the person. But, as he had once again been replaying the events of the last few moments, he had realized something astounding – he had already linked minds with the boy in the woman's memory. In the agonizing moments when he was caught in the flow of emotions from the woman, he had, quite by accident and not by his own volition, fully, and truly connected with the other man's mind. A fractured image presented itself to him – a flash of light, then the view of roiling clouds high above. Yes, he had most definitely linked minds.

All it took was a throwing out of his mind, searching for the right feeling. Within seconds, he found it – the gentle melody of a living human, thoughts and memories singing in his mind. This one had an almost exotic strain to the song, hinting at many adventures and stories that most human minds couldn't even begin to comprehend.

With one decisive action, he linked their minds very briefly, supplanting a tiny part of one of his thoughts into the other man's mind. He had had a reason for initially seeking out someone close to the woman and that reason was still as important as it was sixteen hours prior. If she were to survive this ordeal, she would need help. And in order to receive help, one had to know something was wrong.

The warning sang clear through the thought, the fear and trace amounts of pain that were interwoven through the strands giving the thought its stinging poignancy. It would serve its purpose. At least, he prayed that it would. All now hung in the balance. Which way would the scale tip?

All the while, his fingers continued to drum.

-sSs-


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** For disclaimer, rating, etc., see chapter 1

**A/N:** hello again, all. I am apologizing for being a week late. I had horrendous writers block, and then I injured my finger and it was nigh impossible to type for a few days. I shall make no promises or guesses as to when next chapter shall be posted, due to competitions and extra practices the next two weeks. I shall try to get a chapter uploaded next Sunday or Monday, but as you all know, I often fail quite spectacularly with updating regularly. Thank you all so much for continuing to read, and I would love it if you would drop a comment to let me know what you think. I always love to hear people's thoughts, and guesses as to what's going on.

**Dedication:** This story is dedicated to Yuu-chi as a Christmas present. Merry Christmas, and a happy New Year (late though it may be). Love ya girl!

-Part 3: Bruised and Bloody-

5:01pm; April 14th

As the wind grew stronger, eliciting biting tears from Will's eyes, he stood. He was shaking, he realized, and was suddenly afraid that he would fall over before he managed to get inside. Quickly, and still hugging his arms about him, he hurried toward the door.

As he ducked into the small amount of shelter that the door frame provided, the wind lulled slightly. Will turned around to glance over his shoulder, one hand on the door. All was suddenly, deathly silent. Even the clouds themselves seemed to hover in the air, unmoving, for an instant. One second. And then the world seemed to shatter.

A sharp, reverberating crack split through the air, echoing around the stone walls of the Sanctuary. Will froze, one hand pressing down the latch. He stood stock still, listening for another sound, something to tell him that what he had heard – what he had _thought_ he had heard – was real, and not simply a figment of his imagination.

The wind picked up, gaining a whole new level of ferocity as it battered the world beneath it. Yet it could not quite cover the sounds of tires squealing on pavement, or the next three gunshots.

Will whirled, still holding onto one edge of the doorframe for support. His gaze swept out around the high walls that encircled the Sanctuary grounds, searching for the source of the commotion. His eyes lit on an alleyway that stood adjacent from the side wall.

A shadow detached itself from the darkness within, and made a sprint straight toward the Sanctuary. A spark of light flashed from a rooftop above, and a second later, a crack of a rifle discharging smacked through the air. The figure, who was still wreathed in shadow, pitched forward as the bullet slammed into their back, falling to their knees.

Will stood on the roof, paralyzed as he witnessed the scene unfolding below him. He waited with bated breath for the figure to topple forward and lie still. And so, when the figure instead scrambled to their feet, lunging forward in a dogged run, Will's fear was replaced with shock. For a second longer, he watched the shadow, his eyes widening as the figure was struck two more times, blood misting into the air in their wake, and yet miraculously remained upright and running.

A street lamp flickered on, shedding a beam of yellow light over the fleeing man. Will's gasp was lost in the howling wind as he recognized the lithe, black-haired man.

The door hit the wall and rebounded, nearly catching Will in the arm as he sprinted into the warmth of the Sanctuary. He dashed down the stairs, taking them in threes and fours, and hit the level ground running. Blood roared in his ears and his heart was pounding ferociously, his adrenaline spiking to dangerous levels as he tore through the halls.

Will nearly slammed into the doorframe when he came to an abrupt turn, his hands fumbling in their haste for the handle to the door in front of him. After what felt like an agonizingly eternal amount of time while he attempted to turn the knob, but was truly only a few seconds, he burst into the armory, immediately snatching for three stunners off of the shelf directly to the right of the door. His hands full, he was off again, not even taking the time to slam the door shut.

When he reached the main staircase, he nearly fell down it, rather than ran.

"KATE! HENRY!" Will bellowed, sprinting through the entrance hall. Two confused and slightly worried faces peered out from the kitchen, which were closely followed by the adjoining bodies.

"Will, what's wrong?" Henry asked, his searching gaze immediately noting the flushed and frantic gleam in Will's eyes.

In short, disjointed sentences, Will explained what he had just witnessed, handing Kate and Henry two of the stunners he had snatched from the armory.

"Well, what are we waiting for, then?" Kate asked when Will had finished his explanation. She headed for the front door at a brisk walk, almost run, Will and Henry following behind her.

The wind nearly tore the breath from between Will's lips as he stepped outside. He staggered, and only just managed to close the door, pulling on it with all his strength. The latch clicked, and he hurried down the steps to catch up with Kate and Henry.

When he joined them, they sped up their pace, hurrying toward the front gates. With a glance at each other, the three primed their weapons, and dodged out of the door set in the walls.

No one was in the street. In fact, everything seemed to be perfectly normal. Henry looked over at Will, yelling over the wind, "Are you sure there was someone here?"

Will looked around, feeling suddenly lost. Was something wrong with him? Was he imagining things, like the memory? Will shook his head, shrugging his shoulders for added effect. He had just opened his mouth to try to explain himself when the sharp crack of a gunshot wafted over the wind.

Kate, who was standing between Henry and Will, spoke up as she started to move toward the mouth of an alley across the street. "I guess we have our answer!" Will and Henry took off after her, sprinting.

Will ran across the street, his bones jarring with every step as his feet slammed into the pavement. Above him, lightning flashed across the sky, thunder cracking an instant behind it.

"_We have to hurry and get this finished before the storm gets too bad"_ he thought, his disengaged mind analyzing the situation even as he was drawing near to the entrance to the alley. Behind him, he felt Kate and Henry draw closer as he slowed, choosing stealth and caution over a single-minded charge.

Will stopped at the mouth of the alley, breathing deeply. He looked down, ensuring that the safety was off of his stunner, and turned back to his two friends at his back. They both nodded at him, assuring him that they had his back.

With that, Will took one last deep breath, and whipped around the edge of the wall and into the alley.

"Hands in the air!" he yelled, just as a second bolt of lightning lanced through the clouds, illuminating the confined space. Five kneeling shadows looked up at him, surprise written across their faces and in their posture. For an instant, nothing happened, and all was deathly silent. Even the wind itself lulled for a split second.

And then the storm broke.

The heavens opened, and rain poured down, drenching everyone within the space of a single breath. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, shaking the ground and the buildings on either side with its roar. The three nearest people at the back of the alley turned, raising dully gleaming guns, the rain pinging off of the metal surface.

Will flattened himself against the wall by his right shoulder, calling out a warning to Henry who was directly behind him. Henry threw himself to the left, narrowly escaping being shot. Will raised his stunner and fired off two shots. The first one went wide, the ball of light splaying against the brick wall behind the shooter's shoulder, but the second one clipped him in the torso. He fell without a sound the clatter of his gun as it fell to the ground drowned out by yet another thunderclap.

The sound of Henry's stunner discharging gave Will a second's notice before he saw a second man falling to the ground, the whites of his eyes showing as they rolled to the back of his head. Taking aim, Will sent the third of the attackers sprawling to the wet pavement, a stunning blast to his shoulder.

Behind the three limp bodies, Will could just barely make out two more huddled forms crouched over a third, unconscious man through the rain. One of them, noticing that they no longer had a protective barrier separating him and Will, Kate, and Henry, turned, reaching into a pocket.

"We have no quarrel with you!" he yelled over the pouring rain. "Leave, and we won't hurt you."

"Nice try!" Kate retorted, "But it's more of that we have a quarrel with you. Besides, I don't think either you or your partner is in any position to make demands right now!" She raised her stunner, wiggling the nozzle to accentuate her point. "Now drop your weapons and step forward!"

The man shook his head, and jerked his hand out of his pocket. He twisted, then lobbed whatever was in his hands straight at Kate.

Without thinking, Will dove sideways, tackling Kate to the ground. The small sphere whizzed past his shoulder as they fell, hurtling past them to slam into the ground a few yards beyond. A silent explosion wracked the air, the force of the shock wave knocking the breath out of Will's lungs and cracking the pavement by his head. Stones and chunks of brick and dust rained down around them, mingling with the rain.

Will picked himself up, still trying to remember how to breathe. Kate used his hand to help haul herself upright too, her eyes just as wide as Will's surely were.

"Thanks," she mouthed, and Will nodded in reply. The next second, both were once again focused on the two remaining assailants down the alley.

One of them had already been felled and was lying unconscious, half sprawled overtop one of his accomplices. The other was panicking and attempting to scramble to his feet as Henry approached. He finally managed to get his feet under himself and push his body upright, pressing his back against the wall.

"Don't hurt me," Will heard him plea as he and Kate approached them. Henry turned to Will, and Will shook his head.

"We need him to answer some of our questions," he said decisively. Kate took this as her cue, and moved forward, grabbing him roughly by the collar and shoving him forward.

"See you two back at the Sanctuary," she yelled over the peal of thunder. She shoved her stunner against the small of the man's back, and pushed him forward. Looking bedraggled and miserable, the man complied without hesitation, shuffling out of the alley with Kate in tow.

Will hurried toward the unconscious man in the corner – the one that the three of them had been attempting to rescue. Dropping to his knees, Will ascertained that he had no potentially fatal neck or head wounds, then gently rolled him onto his back.

The man flopped unceremoniously over, one hand splashing in the puddles that were fast growing into miniature lakes. His dark hair was plastered against his forehead and neck, the normally spiked locks slicked down from the rain. Five bullet holes had been punched through his chest and stomach, blood still oozing from the gaping wounds.

"Come on, Nikola, let's get you back to the Sanctuary," Will grumbled, heaving the unconscious vampire partway into his arms. "Henry, give me a hand here?" he asked, and a second later, the two were lifting Nikola up.

As they began to make their slow, careful way out of the alley, Will caught a glimpse of four tranquilizer darts lying in the corner. He shook his head, wondering just how much sedative the people had shot into the vampire that had managed to keep him out for that long, and had somehow managed to slow his healing.

By the time Will and Henry reached the front doors of the Sanctuary carrying their burden, they were both shaking. Whether it was from shock, adrenaline letdown, cold, the dead weight that they had been carrying, or simply the fact that they were both so wet that he was certain he'd never be completely dry again, Will wasn't entirely sure. More than likely, it was a mix of all of those things.

As they trudged up the front steps, the front door opened just enough to allow them entrance. As soon as they were inside, dripping puddles of rainwater on the hardwood floor, Biggie closed the door, bolting it.

He stepped forward, relieving the two humans of their burden.

"Go dry yourselves off," Biggie grunted. "I'll take him down to the infirmary."

Will watched as Biggie carried Nikola down the hallway and toward the elevator, shaking his soaking bangs out of his eyes. Water sprayed everywhere, joining the growing puddle beneath his feet.

"Well…" Will began, turning to Henry, who was just as wet. "That was…interesting."

"Yeah," Henry replied, sounding as dazed as Will felt. "I'm going to take a shower," he said, and started toward the stairs, squelching with each step.

For a minute, Will simply stood in the entrance hall beside the door, shaking and thinking. For a few minutes, there, the weight that had settled on his shoulders had lifted, leaving only Will. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, though, it was once again returning.

And to add to the confusion that was turning into the day, they had just rushed out and saved Nikola from being kidnapped; saved _Nikola_, the famous, smart-ass vampire, who was always boasting about how awesome he was. Will rolled his eyes, bending down to unlace his shoes.

Deciding to follow Henry's example, Will hurried to his room to take a hot shower. As he stood beneath the steaming water, his thoughts once again drifted to the strange occurrences of the day. Could the strange feeling he had been harboring have anything to do with Nikola showing up just outside of the Sanctuary, just as he was being shot down? Could that be what Will had been being warned about?

No, he decided, the feeling plaguing him was something else. Even as he shampooed his hair, he could still feel the niggling fear and doubt lodged deep within his mind. No matter what he did, he couldn't eradicate it. Of course, in light of recent circumstances, he was beginning to wonder if the feeling was a good thing to have.

Will got out as quickly as he could, deciding that he truly didn't need, or want, to be wet for any longer than he absolutely had to be. After toweling off and throwing on a clean, and blessedly dry, pair of jeans and t-shirt, he hurried downstairs.

The ground floor was deserted, the only sound the ticking of the grandfather clock ensconced in a niche. Will shoved his hands in his pockets and made for the elevator. With a _ding_, the doors opened, and Will stepped into the waiting lift. Silence continued to settle around him as he dropped downward, passing through the floors and sinking beneath the ground.

For a split second, Will had an eerie sense of déjà vu, as if he were suddenly in two places at once – a dark, subterranean tunnel lit with a yellow-white light, and the lower floors of the Sanctuary. Will gasped and put out a hand to steady himself as he swayed, leaning heavily against the elevator wall until the lift came to a halt and the doors opened. Even after the doors had slid open, Will merely stood there, gathering his thoughts and reorienting himself.

"_I'm in the Sanctuary"_ he assured himself. "_I'm on my way to see if Nikola is awake."_

Slowly, as if swimming through molasses, Will pushed himself away from the wall and through the doors. As he walked, the common sight of the Sanctuary walls and the crisp, clean smell that reminded him of home washed around him, pulling him completely back to reality.

Confident and steady once more, Will picked up his pace, striding purposefully toward the infirmary.

When he arrived, opening the only closed door along the hallway, he found Henry and Biggie already sitting by the vampire's bed. To Will's mild surprise, Nikola still wasn't awake, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow. To his relief, though, the wounds had stopped bleeding and were beginning to close, fresh skin forming on top of the bullet holes.

"He's still unconscious?" Will asked, even though he knew he was simply stating the obvious.

"Yeah, he hasn't woken up at all," Kate replied, slouching down in the chair she was currently occupying.

"Weird," Will mused. "That guy that you brought in…" Will began, but Kate was already answering him.

"Locked up in Isolation Room 3. Don't worry, he's on maximum security – he won't be going anywhere."

"Good," Will said, sighing as he sank down into the third and final chair in the room. He ran his fingers through his hair distractedly, and his gaze fell on the serene looking Nikola. Once again, he wondered just what the hell was going on. "So, either of you have any idea what's going on?" Will asked, speaking his thoughts aloud.

Kate shrugged, looking unsure. "Maybe he just ran into some trouble and was looking for Magnus to pull his ass out of it," she offered.

Will looked up at her sharply, catching the odd slump of her shoulders. "But you don't think that's it, do you?" he asked shrewdly.

Kate shrugged again. "I dunno…everything about this just feels weird," she muttered, shaking her head. "Hopefully we'll be able to get some answers from him when he wakes up. If he ever wakes up," she added snidely.

"I _am_ awake," a disgruntled voice said from the bed. "However, I'd really much rather I wasn't, and if you kids don't mind, I'd like to go back to peaceful oblivion."

"Nikola," Will said, masking his surprise and involuntary jolt at hearing the new voice by jerking upright to look over at the man lying on the bed. "What happened?" he asked.

"Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing," Nikola retorted, although his voice held significant less venom than it normally did. "I take it I'm in the Sanctuary?"

"Yeah, of course," Will replied, standing up. "We saved you from getting kidnapped by those men," he told Nikola, his tone taking on a slightly condescending note as he said the word kidnapped. He planned to never let Nikola forget it.

"Yes, well, thank you for that I suppose," Nikola sighed, although once again, he sounded less than enthusiastic about his quip. "Have any food or change of clothes?" Nikola asked, sitting up slowly and grimacing at the wet squish that followed his every move.

"I'll go get you something to eat and some dry clothes," Biggie grunted to Nikola, and left the room, heading toward the elevator.

"Thanks," Nikola mumbled, shifting uncomfortably.

Will shared a glance with Kate. What was wrong with him? What could possibly be so wrong that Nikola Tesla had actually thanked one of them without making it sound rude and begrudging?

"Who were they? The men attacking you, I mean," Kate asked, crossing her arms.

Nikola responded with a question of his own. "Helen…is she here?" he asked hopefully. Surprised at the question, Kate answered automatically.

"Nope. She's gone for a week. Why?" Nikola didn't respond.

"Nikola, what's going on?" Will asked, more forcefully this time.

"It's a long story," Nikola said, his eyes glazing over as if in memory. Kate had just opened her mouth, most likely to tell Nikola that they had plenty of time, when the vampire spoke up again. "It's a story I'm sure all of you will want to hear, and I'd really rather not tell it more than once."

Once again, Will managed to hide his surprise. Nikola Tesla, not wanting to brag about his amazing feats? This was definitely something new. Will wanted to push him farther, to get some answers out of the older man.

Instead, Will said, "Okay then. Kate, can you see if you can find Henry?"

"Sure," Kate replied, heaving herself to her feet and exiting the room.

Will and Nikola sat in silence for a few minutes, and Will found himself tempted to start twiddling his thumbs. Instead, he turned to one of the counters and picked up a tongue presser. He fiddled with it, his back toward Nikola, lost in his thoughts.

It took him full minute to realize he was talking out loud.

"Something's wrong, isn't it?" he asked. Without waiting for a reply, he continued. "I mean, it's like everything's just sort of…crumbling down. As if everything today just feels wrong. It feels like, well like…I can't explain it."

"I know." Those two words snapped Will out of his ramblings. He turned to face Nikola, his guard down, opening his thoughts for anyone to read them.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing is right," Nikola replied, his eyes downcast, his hands folded loosely on top of his folded legs. "Everything's gone wrong."

Silence fell again, only this time Will's thoughts were fixed on the man sitting on the bed. He had never, _ever_ seen Nikola this way before. If Will didn't know better, he'd have said that the vampire was worried. And by worried, he didn't mean annoyed that something wasn't coming out right, or apprehensive about getting injured, or even afraid that he was going to die. No…if Will didn't know better, he'd have said that Nikola was well and truly frightened. That he was remorseful, and wishing that he could go back and change something. That he blamed himself for something that he feared could never be rectified.

Will shook his head. This was _Nikola_ he was thinking about.

Nikola looked up, and for just an instant, their eyes met. And in Nikola's eyes, Will saw something he never expected: pain. Just like that, the fleeting second of weakness and unfettered emotion was gone, and Nikola had broken the contact. It only left Will even more confused and at a loss.

The door opened, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen. Henry followed Kate inside, who held the door open for Biggie, who was carrying a tray of steaming tomato soup and grilled cheese. Henry dumped a pile of clothes onto Nikola's bed, then crossed the room to plop down into an empty chair. His hair was still damp from his shower, and his hands were shoved into the pockets of his sweatshirt like he was cold.

"I'm just going to go change," Nikola said, scooping up the clothes and disappearing.

"I brought enough food for you all to have some," Biggie announced, carefully placing the tray on the bedside table, and nudging the plate stacked high with sandwiches closer to the front. "Eat, before it gets cold."

Although he didn't feel particularly hungry, Will followed Kate toward the food, ladling tomato soup into a mug and grabbing a grilled cheese. He claimed the seat next to Henry and began to sip the soup carefully, wincing as the hot liquid hit his tongue and scalded his throat.

Nikola came back when Will was about halfway done with his sandwich, his hair ruffled and mostly dry, and his wet, tattered clothes hanging limp in one arm. Being Nikola, he folded them and placed them at the food of the bed, before turning toward the food.

"Is this really the best you could do?" he asked, some of his usual enthusiasm back in his voice. "Tomato and cheese?"

"Just eat," Biggie grunted, rolling his eyes behind Nikola's back. Kate smirked, hiding her wicked grin in her mug of soup. Nikola harrumphed, but did as Biggie commanded, filling his own mug with soup and grabbing a sandwich. He settled on the bed, eating his meal with huge gulps.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was that of eating. After what felt like an interminable time to Will, Nikola finished, placing his mug on the table and laying back against the pillows. He let out a sigh, then cracked an eye to glare at the three humans and one big foot still in the room with him.

"Well? Can you leave so I can get some sleep?" he asked scathingly.

"Nikola, you can't put off telling us what happened forever. We're all here, and now is as good a time as any for you to tell us." Will was seriously about ready to punch the snarky vampire. He had as good as told Will that something was desperately wrong, and yet there he was, trying to delay the inevitable for a little while longer. "Tell us," he urged.

Nikola sighed, then sat upright. "At least get me some wine?" he asked plaintively.

"Nikola," Will growled. Nikola rolled his eyes, and moved so that he was sitting propped up against the pillows.

"Fine," he said.

For a minute, Will thought that he had been mistaken when he thought Nikola was actually going to tell them, for he seemed to withdraw, blocking everything and everyone out. Then, just as Will opened his mouth to prod the obstinate vampire some more, Nikola spoke.

"It all started a few days ago. I was simply minding my own business, going back to my own home, when I was attacked. I still don't know exactly why, or what precisely they wanted with me. I managed to fight them off – I guess they weren't quite ready for a vampire." He smirked, although it was only half-hearted. "I killed all of them except for one," he went on, his voice regaining the wistful, almost uninterested tone again. "I wanted to question him. He smiled and said nine words: 'It's a good thing you aren't the only one.' With that, he slit his own throat.

It's a good thing you aren't the only one…those words wouldn't leave me alone. There was only one meaning that I could think of: they were talking about the Source Blood. That meant that Helen could very well be in trouble as well. I knew I wouldn't be able to contact her through the normal channels fast enough, so I went looking for her. Only, I couldn't find her. I did find where she _had_ been, though.

I traced her all the way to a hotel in Bolivia. But that was when my luck ran out. When I went up to her room, I found it almost completely destroyed. The draperies slashed and the furniture smashed. Bullet holes peppered the walls. There was blood everywhere, and it was fresh. I had missed them by only a few hours.

I tried to find her. I swear to you all, I tried. But it was as if she and her kidnappers had disappeared into thin air. I knew they would have wanted her alive – they had tried to tranq me, and I couldn't see why they would want me alive, but her dead.

I must have been spotted then. I was attacked again that night, although it wasn't nearly as vicious an attack. It seemed as if they were simply trying desperately to bring me in, if they at all possible could. I ran, but I must have been tracked.

I found a plane leaving Bolivia that night, and I landed in San Francisco this morning. I hoped that, somehow, I had been mistaken and Helen was, in fact, still here at the Sanctuary. So I started for here. But I was waylaid on the way out of the airport.

I don't remember much of what happened next, other than I was running and fighting. I remember a storm building, and that I realized I was getting close to the Sanctuary. And then I remember being shot, and falling into darkness. The next thing I knew, I was waking up here, with you motley band."

Will sat there, slightly stunned. He had never imagined seeing Nikola in this light before – that of a devoted friend who was willing to risk anything for someone. To Will, Nikola had always been a self-serving, selfish, arrogant bastard. He had never known what Magnus had seen in him that had kept her close to him. Now he was beginning to get an idea.

"So you think Magnus has been kidnapped?" Will asked, finally sorting through his boggling thoughts enough to form a coherent sentence.

"Yes, Sherlock, I think Magnus has been kidnapped, or were you not listening to my story?" Nikola snapped. "And by the same people that attacked me. I found a tattered piece of cloth in the hotel room, and it matched the uniform of my attackers perfectly."

"Any idea what they wanted with you two?" This time it was Henry who spoke.

Nikola sighed, clearly exasperated. "No," he barked. "I already told you, I have no idea what they wanted us for. Or I would have told you already. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get some sleep."

"Okay…" Will said. "We can talk more tomorrow."

Nikola lay down, sighing barely audibly and turning over so his back was facing Will and the others. Will couldn't help but be reminded of a sulky toddler.

Will stood, picking up his mug of cold soup. He'd stopped drinking it sometime during Nikola's narration, and it had long since lost its warmth. Motioning for the others to follow him out, he left the room, leaving Nikola alone.

Once the door was shut, Will turned to the others.

"Well, what do you think?" he asked them, swirling the scarlet liquid around in the mug.

"Honestly, I've never seen Nikola act quite like that before," Henry said after a minute. "I mean, I've seen him set off balance and such, but I've never seen him…" he trailed off. "If I didn't know Nikola better, I'd say he was scared."

"Yeah," Kate agreed. "I mean…you know Nikola and his crazy stories. But this one felt…I dunno, different in some way." She shrugged, as if she couldn't quite express what she felt. "What do you think Will?"

Will looked at Biggie, then began to talk, slowly at first, then with more passion.

"I think he's telling the truth. I mean, we have no way to know for sure – right now we're just going on his own word. But…I dunno, all day, I've had a strange feeling. A feeling as if something's not quite right. As if something's wrong. I can't explain it, but it's gotten worse as the day's progressed. And what with the freak storm, and then Nikola showing up in such a dramatic way, well I think we'd be crazy to not give everything at least a second look."

Biggie grunted in agreement. "I agree with Will," he added, and Kate and Henry nodded as well.

"Well, what do we do now?" Kate wondered aloud.

"We have to find out if what Nikola said is true. Or, if what he said is completely true, or if there's anything he left out."

"How do we do that?" Henry asked.

"Squid!" Kate gasped, her eyes going wide. "He contacted me earlier today and told me he had information that we'd want to see right away. What if has to do with whatever's going on?"

"How long until we were supposed to meet with him?" Will asked.

"Two days," Kate answered instantaneously.

"Well, let's see if we can get into contact with him sooner. Somehow I don't think we have two days," Will said. Kate nodded, and quickly turned and left.

"I'm going to go take care of the dishes," Biggie announced into the silence that followed Kate's departure. "You know where to find me if you need me." With that, Biggie left as well, leaving only Will and Henry standing in the hall.

"That feeling you've been having…" Henry began.

"Like I said, it's just weird. I really can't explain it. It's like…" Will trailed off, trying to find a way to describe it.

Unbidden, the faint memories of the dark tunnel and then the sudden flash of light drifted to the forefront of his mind.

"It's dark," he murmured, lost in his own memories. "It's so dark, and cold. There's nothing but fear and death down there. And the scream…" And then it struck him. It struck him so hard, it felt like a physical blow.

"The scream," he said, his eyes widening and snapping up to meet Henry's. Henry met his gaze, his own confused and slightly worried.

"Scream?" he questioned, trying to push Will enough to tell him just what was going on.

"The scream," Will whispered, horror flooding him. "It's hers. It was Magnus's."

-sSs-


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** see chapter 1

**A/N:** Well, I finally found the time to write this weekend (thank goodness for President's Day!). So, here we have it! Part 4. I hope that this chapter finds you all well and good. I _hope_ to have the next chapter up next Sunday or Monday, and you all have my permission to pester me if I go over that time limit, if you so desire. Thankfully, I have a good chunk of backstory/plot written down and saved, so I have at least some substantial backbone for the story (which also hopefully means I'll suffer from less writer's block). I hope you all read, review, but most of all, please enjoy.

Here's the key to understanding my italics usage. (Please note that a new section has been added)

_italics _(just regular italics) - memories/flashbacks  
>"<em>italics<em>" (italics with quotation marks around them) - thoughts  
>_italics_/ (italics with backwards slashes at the beginning and end of the passage) - seeing through someone else's eyes

_italics _(italics underlined) - telepathic communication/talking telepathically

**Dedication:** Dedicated to Yuu-chi. This is like the Christmas that keeps on giving! Merry Christmas (in February!)

Part 4: Burning Bright

7:13pm; April 14th

_Aidden?_ The voice in his head was unexpected, and it took all of his willpower to keep himself from jumping as his name echoed through the mental communication. Even so, his fingers stilled for half a second, pausing in their incessant tapping on the arm of the armchair. He could only hope that none of his other companions noticed this irregularity.

_Trevvor?_ The latecomer – Aidden – replied, just as cautiously and tenuously as the other had spoken his name. _What is wrong? You know how dangerous it is to communicate…if the Others…_

Trevvor cut him off. _I know, I know. I'll make it quick…_ The lad trailed off, as if unsure of how to proceed, afraid of the effect his next words would have. _You said that she was The One, the DragonTamer_ Trevvor finally stated, his mental tone sounding strained and hollow, as if he was attempting to cover up his emotions as he would if was he using his audible voice. Beneath the shadow of his hood, Aidden's mouth twitched into something that resembled a grin of sorts – that was one thing about telepathic communication: no matter how hard you tried, you could never truly lie – your mind knew the truth, and as such, it would come across the mental link.

_She is,_ Aidden assured the younger lad. _I promise you._

_But she's already fallen!_ Trevvor exclaimed, the fear evident in his mental 'voice', the boy not even trying to hide his emotion any longer. _How can you believe she will be our savior if she isn't even strong enough to get through the first level?_

_Peace, Trevvor,_ Aidden soothed, worried that the boy's mental distress would leak into his physical demeanor. And that could easily prove to be disastrous. Trevvor didn't seem to be listening, however, and Aidden sensed a growing unease. _Get a rein on your emotions, or you will have us found out!_ Aidden snapped as he felt the ire and tension mount, bordering on panic. Slowly at first, he felt the boy begin to calm himself.

_She is already so weak,_ Trevvor continued, much more in control of himself. _And she already has to be healed. How can you believe she'll be able to make it out alive, let alone be strong enough to help _us_ when the time comes?_

About him, Aidden could sense a consciousness beginning to stir, as if feeling something slightly amiss in the air. A cautiously probing tendril of thought was thrown throughout the room, as if seeking and searching for something. Realizing that he only had a few seconds remaining, Aidden sent one last, parting thought to the lad.

_Because she is not alone._

With that, Aidden severed the connection, withdrawing behind the walls of his own mind. It felt as if he were stepping inside a steel room and was coming inside out of a windy, blustery day. He locked the barriers around his mind just as a crushing force of searching thought slammed against his mind. It slipped off of his mind's guards like water breaking over a stone, rolling off of the barriers and unable to penetrate his thoughts. After a second, the entity withdrew, moving on.

Aidden breathed an inaudible sigh of relief, leaning back in the overstuffed armchair. He clenched his fingers into a tight fist, and withdrew them from the armrest, depositing it in his lap. He looked at his interlocked fingers for a moment, suppressing any thought that impeded with his concentration. He was waiting and listening, praying that Trevvor had also sensed the oncoming, probing tendril of thought, and had had the time to erect the proper walls.

When a good five minutes had passed, and there was no sound or disruption of the low buzz of conversation, Aidden allowed himself a short moment of relaxation. He closed his eyes, allowing his mind to rest. He could only pray that it would all be over soon.

Someone in the room rose, the woman shifting her weight around as she stretched. Aidden cracked open his eyes and took a glance to his left. It was the woman dressed in cargo pants and cargo boots, with the fedora perched jauntily on top of her short cropped, black hair. A strange feeling seemed to emanate from the woman – an odd feeling that made him watch her carefully as she made her way toward the food still lavishly spread across the table. His eyes narrowed as he watched her walk, her movements smooth and graceful, looking as if she were a lioness on the hunt. For a split second, she seemed to catch his eye, her own, chilling blue gaze locking with his own olive green. The next second, the connection had broken, and she was leaning over to pick up a handful of pistachios.

Aidden fully expected the woman to retreat back to her own seat once she had snatched whatever snack she was searching for. And so, it was to his great surprise, when she instead stepped around the table and began to walk toward him, her head down as she pushed her way through the small throng of people's legs.

Without so much as a please, she sat down atop the left arm of Aidden's chair, popping a few pistachios into her mouth. She chewed silently for a few seconds, and swallowed. And then she spoke.

"Interesting Game, isn't it?" she asked amiably. Aidden didn't respond. "I mean, what with that new creature and all. I haven't seen it yet." She paused, as if waiting for some sort of reaction from the man sitting beneath her. When he said nothing – merely cocked his head as if peering at her from beneath the overshadowing hood he had worn since entering – she continued on nonplussed. "In fact," she said with gusto, as if this were the whole reason she'd come over to him in the first place, "if I didn't know better, I'd say that that last, Dragonish thing wasn't even supposed to be there at all. Not yet."

Aidden's gaze sharpened as the woman spoke the last two words. They were clipped and cold, as if she were driving a nail through a glass window.

"Nice meeting you," she said, the friendly, yet slightly condescending tone returning to her voice as she stood, tipping her hat toward him. She turned and stalked her way back toward her own seat, lifting her hand to deposit a few more nuts into her mouth.

Perhaps she wasn't as old as he had previously thought, Aidden mused, watching her sit back down. After seeing her up close, she looked to be a good ten years younger than he had previously thought. The way she held herself, though, spoke of a great deal of experience in the ways of life.

Aidden tapped his forefinger and his thumb together a few times, his thoughts turning to what the woman had just told him. Did they have some hidden meaning? "_Or perhaps it wasn't such a hidden meaning after all,"_ he realized. Aidden ground his teeth. This was all getting to be too complicated. If things kept progressing as they had been, soon he wouldn't know what to do next – he'd be lost in trying to figure out just how to keep his own head above the rising waters, let alone helping someone else do the same.

A sudden _hiss_ and movement by Aidden's foot brought his attention to the floor. The brown serpentine creature by his foot had suddenly uncoiled, writhing slightly amongst the fibers of the carpet. Without warning, it shot upward, as if seeking to wrap itself around Aidden's leg, but then at the last second it contracted, coiling itself into a tight ball once more. It hissed agitatedly again, then fell silent, even as it continued to quiver.

Confused, and a little concerned, Aidden glanced around the room, seeking out the other serpent creatures. The one curled against the footstool by the old woman was raising and lowering its head animatedly, as if at a loss as to what it should do. The one beside the old man in the wooden chair was stretched taught, as if it were yearning toward something unattainable.

For a split second, Aidden's eyes flickered to the man sitting regally on the throne. What he saw there momentarily distracted him from all else happening in the room. The man was clenching the ornately carved arms of the throne, his knuckles white. He was tense, a vein throbbing in his forehead. His face was slightly flushed, and his eyes were bright with an almost manic glint. There was definitely something going on that he was not happy with.

Aidden carefully lowered a few of the barriers, opening his mind to the room around him. Only the strongest thoughts would pierce the guards that he still had erected around his own mind, but if the man was as angry as Aidden presumed, his thoughts would be plenty clear to hear to anyone listening.

"_This can't be! She can't be awake yet!" _the man thought frantically. _"No one has ever awoken within four hours from the time that they were hit by the sonic blast. And she's done it in two! This is impossible…"_ As the thought trailed off, Aidden caught the vague impression of sudden uncertainty emanating from the man. _"Perhaps we were wrong to do this. Perhaps the Dragons were right…"_ The thoughts cut off abruptly, as if the man suddenly realized what he was thinking. All was silent for a moment as the man slowly gained control over his emotions once again. Aidden brought up his barriers again, taking refuge behind their strength.

"_I hope Trevvor could sense his thoughts as well,"_ Aidden mused. _"Perhaps it would allay some of his fears concerning her. And I am glad to know that she is setting the Others on edge."_

As if the man could sense Aidden's gaze, he looked up abruptly, his gaze sweeping around the room. He released a deep breath, and sat back into the cushions and relaxed visibly, although Aidden could still sense the man's anxiety from the way his hands did not loosen their grip. A smile was forced onto the man's face, although it looked painful, as if he were swallowing scorpions.

"Please, take your seats. It seems as if our player has awakened from her healing sleep. She will be slightly disoriented at first, especially with her premature awakening, but it will pass momentarily. Shall we?"

It was time for the next stage of the plan to begin.

-sSs-

_It felt as if she were floating. On what, she wasn't sure…if it was anything at all. All she could see around her was white, pure, solid, unending white. It hurt._

_She tried to close her eyes, to block out the never ending field of blinding snow, but she couldn't. She couldn't move, no matter how hard she tried. It was as if her brain would send all the correct signals, ordering her limbs to contract, her eyes to blink, her mouth to open, and yet they were locked in some sort of frozen animation._

_She tried to scream. She tried to cry. But she couldn't. Just as she was unable to move, she couldn't make a sound. Everything was silent._

_Everything__ was silent. It took her a few agonizingly eternal seconds to realize just why she felt so empty, so cold, so lifeless. Terror washed through her, and yet it brought nothing but cold._

_She couldn't hear her heart beat._

_She fought, writhing and twisting to escape, to jumpstart her heart into pumping once again. She screamed, hoping to somehow force her lungs to start to inhale and exhale. And yet, even as she fought, she could feel herself lying perfectly still on a bed of emptiness._

_The whiteness, it never ended. It held her, mocked her, taunted her. Slowly, with ever growing fear, she began to understand. White was the color of insanity. It held her inert because she was dead. And she could see nothing but bleached, unwavering white, because that was who she was – nothing, and no one. She could not remember who she was. Not her name, not even a simple fragment of a memory._

"_Helen." The voice was soft and gentle, and yet coaxing, pleading. Somehow, it seemed almost familiar. "Helen, my love." A shadow moved in her peripheral vision, seemingly walking out of the white void and simply…appearing. She latched onto the dark form, her desperate mind seeking something other than the unbreaking, unfailing white._

_Slowly, the shadow took form. It was a man, tall, and yet somehow shadowed so that she couldn't quite make out his features. As he neared, though, she felt as if a peace long denied her washed through her, filling her with a warmth that had been wrenched from her being._

"_Helen." That was her name, she realized. Helen. Helen Magnus. Something brushed against her bare shoulder, and she shivered, even as she remained still._

_The figure knelt beside her, and she felt something caress her cheek. She tried to turn her head into the warmth of the fingers, but once again, she found herself unable to. For a split second, she felt hot tears of pain and frustration drip down her cheeks, but then they evaporated, leaving only chilled skin behind. Warm, loving fingertips traced the imaginary tear tracks down her cheeks, smoothing them away._

"_Helen, my love, do you trust me?" _

"_Yes," she wanted to sob, to scream. "Please, just help me!"_

"_Then you have to wake up. I'm with you Helen. I will be, until the very end." _

_The man leaned down, and kissed her. _

"_Wake up, Helen…" the words echoed through her mind as a dying whisper as the shadowy form of the man blurred, then disappeared._

"_Wait!" she tried to call out, her heart begging her to stop him before he disappeared. For a second, it was as if he turned to glance back. A small smile seemed to light up his face. And then he was gone._

_Fire burned through her, warming her. With a pain intense enough to rip her soul from her body, she felt life pouring back into her body. Like the crashing of waves pounding against a cliff, sound suddenly rushed in on her, battering her – the pounding of her heart, the soft 'hush' of air as her lungs inhaled and exhaled, the sound of her own voice, screaming._

_The white surrounding her splintered as she jerked, kicking and clawing at the prison holding her. It felt like glass shattering, cascading around her in painful shards. She felt as if something were tearing through her skin and down into her core. _

_The fire receded from her body, until it was centered in three places: her hands, her chest, and her left leg just above the knee. She curled in on herself, trying to somehow alleviate the fire burning within her._

_Slowly, as if one by one each burning ember was being extinguished, the pain died away, leaving only a cold, gray landscape behind. Even as she lay there, the gray began to fade to be replaced with a pearlescent yellow light that gleamed through pale twilight. The sounds of water dripping, and air whispering over stone caressed her ears, and she could almost taste the sharp, pungent smell of mold and mildew._

_She uncurled herself from the fetal position, and with agonizing slowness, she took a deep breath._

_With that, she woke up._

Helen Magnus sat bolt upright, her entire body quivering like a coiled spring. For a full minute, all she could do was sit stock still in the sand, shaking as her body fought to cope with the shock of what it had just experienced.

Flashes of images and pictures sped through her mind, as if the frames of an animated film were on fast-forward: a white prison and a numbing hold; a vicious roar and a jagged bolt of lightning lancing toward her; a crushing pain pinning her against the stones. The feel of her bones shattering.

She cried out as adrenaline burst through her, launching herself to her feet and immediately tumbling to her knees, sand spurting up on either side of her as her numb legs buckled. A faint, yet increasingly painful prickling started in her toes and began to work its way through her ankles and into her thighs as the blood began to circulate through her legs again.

Helen half fell, half leaned forward, bracing her hands against the soft, sifting sand of the floor beneath her. Her body heaved as the memories assaulted her, her body trying in vain to expel something from her stomach. All that came was thin, acidic liquid that burned her tongue and throat, and she spit it out with disgust. The vile spittle sunk into the sand, disappearing without a trace.

Shaking again, Magnus rolled over onto her side, breathing heavily. Once again, she thought she felt her body snapping and splintering, the pain so intense that she could hardly feel it any longer. She turned her head to press against the tiny, sharp granules of sand. The worn pieces of stone dug into her cheek, helping to ground her and pull her out of the memory.

"_What's going on?"_ Helen asked herself, lying perfectly still as she tried to gain control of her racing heart and rampant emotions. _"I should be dead."_ That single thought pierced the fog in her brain, and it was suddenly as if a light had been switched on inside the woman's brain. _"I should be dead, but somehow…somehow I'm not. I'm still alive. At least, I think I am…"_

Slowly, Magnus sat up, and although she was still shivering, she at least had control over her body once more. She lifted a hand, hovering it in front of her face for a moment, clenching and unclenching her fingers. Satisfied with what she saw, she tentatively attempted to gain her feet.

Her cramping leg muscles screamed in agony, and once again, Helen was nearly sent tumbling to the sand beneath her. At the last second, her resolve hardened, and through sheer strength of will, she forced her legs to bear her weight. Tears sprang into her eyes as her legs burned and stung all at once, feeling as if they would tear free from the bone at the slightest movement. Gritting her teeth, Magnus took first one step, then another, knowing that the fastest way to work out a muscle cramp was to walk it out.

"_How could you hurt so much if you were dead?"_ Helen's ever logical brain asked. Somehow, she found a certain measure of reassurance from that simple, yet morbid thought.

It took her nearly running into the wall to halt her single minded trudge. Her instincts took over, and she threw out her hands to stop her face from smashing into the looming rocks. For a split second, her mind expected to feel the sharp, biting pain that resulted from ragged hands being jarred. Thus it was a shock to Helen when no pain met her palms as they snagged against the rough stone.

Realizing the significance of such a thing, Magnus pulled her hands away from the wall and inspected them more carefully. They were whole and uninjured, not even so much as a blemish to mark her skin where she had repeatedly ripped the skin from the bone. Another thought drifted through her mind, and Helen leaned over, carefully pressing probing fingers into her knee. Again, there was no pain.

Her broken ribs, her decimated hands, her mauled leg, they were all healed she realized with a thrill. How it had happened, she had no idea. And at the moment, she wasn't willing to question the miracle.

Slowly, painfully, Helen sank to the ground, her back pressed against the wall. There seemed to be something she was missing…something important. Whatever had happened to her had definitely disoriented her, throwing her completely off balance.

She closed her eyes and pressed her palms against her temple, feeling as if she were trying to find the burning lamp that was hanging right in front of her.

"_Where am I?" _The question was so obvious, it was almost painful. She could remember the moments prior to her…_near_ death, and could remember the white cage, and yet it was as if there was something clamping down on all of her memories from before seeing the yellow Dragon.

_Darkness surrounded her, clutching at her. Her heart raced, fighting to burst out of her chest. Her breathing was sharp and ragged, frenzied. She closed her eyes, fighting to regain her calm. Slowly, ever so slowly, the fear began to recede. But only a little. When she opened her eyes, it was still just as dark as before. The task was just as impossible, the hope just as faint._

_She began to move forward, her arms outstretched slightly so as not to run into anything in the darkened cavern. Her feet shuffled along the floor as she took tiny steps, small stones and pebbles clattering away from her boots as they dragged along the ground. _

_Without warning, her right hand smashed into something hard. Something hard and extremely sharp. Light flared around her, assailing her retinas as it lanced through the darkness. Her hand burned and stung all at once, and she could feel warmth trickling down the fingertips from a deep gash on the back of her hand._

Helen stifled her gasp as the memory filtered away. She pressed a little harder, and a shadowy, blurry image of a metal room wavered into her mind's eye. There was an examination table at the center of the room, with trays standing around it, light glinting innocently off of not so innocently sharp utensils placed carefully on towels atop the trays. The ghost of fear and adrenaline whispered through her veins, accompanying the memory. A faint scream of anger and fear seemed to accompany the image.

She shook her head, pressing farther back, searching for more.

_Her hands were pulled uncomfortably behind her, the metal of the handcuffs biting into her wrists. She twisted her hands agitatedly for what was surely the hundredth time, restlessly jerking her right foot against the metal band that held it to the chair leg as well. It was no use, of course. Her foot jerked to a stop only a few centimeters away from where it had started, and her wrists only stung and smarted a little more. _

_She allowed her head to loll forward slightly, fatigue finally beginning to claim her. She hadn't slept in…well, she didn't particularly care to think too long or hard about that number. However long it had been since she had slipped into sweet oblivion of slumber, it had been far longer than her body wanted._

_She shivered slightly, the metal of the chair she was sitting on seeping through the thin material of the clothes she had been given after being stripped and shoved into a frigid deluge that they called a shower. Whatever it truly was, it had served its purpose, as she had stepped out of the linoleum box shivering and dripping wet, but clean of the blood and gore that was testament to the fight she had been in a few hours previously. That had been at least two days ago. Vaguely, her mind registered that something else had happened in that forty-eight hour period, and yet for some reason, she couldn't seem to remember what it was exactly. She got the vague impression of being forced to kneel, her knees smashing against a hard surface, and then warmth rolling over her, and the musty smell of some great beast filling the air. She huffed with frustration as the fragment of memory slipped and faded, and once again tugged at her bindings._

_Her eyes began to drift shut, sleep finally overcoming her. She would never be sure if she actually drifted off to sleep or not, but the next thing she knew, the door to her monotonous metal room was being thrown open, and three men were stepping into the room._

_The first two were guards that were dressed identically in standard issue, black BDU's – nothing special or really worth note, seeing as you could get them from any surplus military dealer. Both were also carrying M16's. _

"_Lovely," Magnus said drolly, "I have visitors." She lifted her head so she could get a better look at her third visitor._

_He was a short, stringy man, with thinning brown hair and a pair of large glasses that did nothing but accentuate his potato shaped nose and too thin mouth. He was dressed in slacks and a lab coat, and in one hand he carried a clipboard. He smiled rather crookedly at Helen, his eyes gleaming with a predatory gleam. Helen glared at him._

"_Now, now Helen – can I call you Helen? – that's no way to treat…what did you call us…visitors?" The man had a thin, nasal voice that sounded as if it should be coming from a child rather than a full grown man._

"_What do you want with me?" Magnus snapped rather waspishly. She didn't like the newcomers, and found herself wishing that she were alone again, rather than having to be subject to this man's company. It only made her feel a little better that there were two others in the room with her, even if they were guards set to make sure she didn't escape._

"_Well now, __**that**__," the doctor said rather pompously, "is a very interesting question."_

"_If you want me for information, well I'm sorry, but you won't be getting any," Magnus told the man. To her surprise, the man laughed._

"_Oh no Dr. Magnus, we don't want you for…information," he said cheerily, and flipped a few papers up from his clipboard. "In fact," he continued, a smug grin oozing across his face, "I'm here to impart you with some information. Helen, I'm pleased to inform you that you've been chosen to participate in the next round of Games."_

_Helen tensed. For some reason, she found that she wasn't terribly thrilled at the idea. Her eyes narrowed as she glared a little harder at the doctor. To her annoyance, he either didn't notice, or didn't care. More than likely, it was the latter option. It probably had something to do with her being tied to a chair, she decided._

"_I've been sent to give you all of the information you'll need before we take you into Preparation." Helen's throat closed for a heartbeat, not liking the way the man had said the word 'preparation'. "Immediately after that, you'll be taken to the Labyrinth."_

"_First of all, I'd like you to know that you have absolutely no choice in this matter. Second of all is that the only way for you to survive the Games is to make it through all ten Levels of the Labyrinth and find the exit point."_

"_How do I do that?" Magnus asked._

_The doctor smiled, and Helen was a little vindictively pleased to see that his teeth were off-center and slightly yellowed. "You'll figure it out," the man assured her and turned to leave._

"_Wait, what happens if I make it through all ten Levels?" Helen called out at the man's back._

_For a second, the doctor didn't move. Then, with purposeful slowness, he turned back toward her. "Oh don't worry about that," he said, although his voice was anything reassuring. "No one's made it as far as Level 7. I don't think you're going to have to worry about that."_

_With that, the doctor swept out of the room, closely followed by the two guards, and the door swung shut behind them, clanging as it locked. Helen was strongly reminded of a prison door closing after the attorney came in to deliver the death sentence._

It was as if that one memory unlocked all the rest; the dark cavern that she had awoken to find herself in; her stumbling trek through the darkness, only to run into the walls that, when hit with something, would light up; her encounter with the bat-wolf creature, and then with the Dragon.

And memories from before that, too. A man, smiling and laughing, cajoling, trying to convince her to eat something. That same man running by her side, shouting a warning in her ear. A blonde haired girl barely out of her teens, a gun in one hand, a cocky smirk dancing in her eyes. For some reason, Helen felt a thrill of pain and loss at the memory, and it felt as if a hole opened in her heart. There was also another man, his shaggy hair hanging over his forehead, a phone in one hand, a tablet in the other, and a utility belt hanging loose so that the tools hung even with the bottom of his shorts. And more, so much more…it all came rushing in on her, flooding her with thoughts and emotions.

Something at the base of her skull prickled, and it felt as if her brain was itching. Magnus shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the buzz that abruptly filled her thoughts. Just as quickly as it had come, the discomfort faded, leaving her sitting at the base of the cavern wall feeling just as alone as ever.

No…not as alone. Somehow, she felt as if there were others with her. For some reason, though, that didn't make her feel any better.


End file.
